The Snowman's Apprentice
by celestial-sonneteer
Summary: Holden is back in New York for his Christmas holiday and has a day full of magic in Central Park with an old friend. Takes place a few years after the events that transpired in Catcher in the Rye.


**A/N: Hi everyone! I haven't uploaded since November (right?) and I'm sorry for that. I wrote the beginnings of another LOTF story but it was in the Doccument Manager for too long and it was deleted :( I'll see if I can revive it and, hopefully, I'll post it soon! I hope that you like this one and have a very Happy Holiday!**

The Snowman's Apprentice

I can feel their eyes on the back of my head, my shirt, and the tufts of grey intermixed with the rest of my dark hair. They couldn't give a damn as to why I'm at this café. They don't know why and they don't want to know. They're looking me up and down, seeing me with shallow eyes. Looking at things that only phonies notice. Like my jacket, snow covered shoes, and the hunting hat that they stupidly think is some sort of a fashion statement. Fashion, my ass. Phonies don't get that hats are supposed to keep your ears warm and do a pretty good job of it.

I look up from the newspaper in my hands when a blonde, overly rouged waitress comes over to where I'm sitting and places a mug of hot water on the table. "What tea d'ya want, hon," she asks me.

"None." I'm not much of a tea-drinker. I just like to keep the cup of hot water between my hands to warm 'em up. She doesn't seem to get it, though. She's staring at me, with her eyebrow all raised and her head cocked to the side, as if what I said wasn't in plain enough English for her.

"Suit yourself." She walks away.

I go to warm up my hands and put the newspaper down on the table when I see a girl with a red jacket and these fuzzy white earmuffs at the counter. I do one of those "double takes" that you always see in the movies when the guy sees this pretty girl that he didn't notice the first time he looked at her. But it's not only 'cause I think she's pretty. I lean in, trying to hear her voice, see her face, or give me any other clue to figure out if it's really her. When she went to tuck a brown lock behind her ear, I could see her face; the eyes, the forehead, the nose, and the muckle-mouth of hers that goes everywhere when she gets passionate about something. It's her.

Things happen quickly as I spill my hot water onto my table, soaking my newspaper. I swear under my breath and quickly stride over to her before stopping only a few feet from her, trying to think of what to say. Too late to go back and plan though. Damn, she's spotted me. She looks confused before her eyes open all wide and bright and she gasps, thoroughly surprised to see me – _me! – _of all people there.

"Holden!" She stands up and gives me a fleeting hug and a peck on the cheek. Damn, I'm probably as red as my hat right about now. She looks me in the eyes and I can see her smile.

"Hi Jane," I say. Damn, she's gotten prettier. Her eyes are so… And her cheeks are all pink and… "You look great." I mentally kick myself. She looks more than great!

She laughs. "You, too. How've you been? I haven't seen you in a while!"

"Yeah," I say. "It's been too long. I'm swell. How're you and what brings you to New York?" This time, I really want to know. I want to know everything that's happened to her since I saw her two summers ago.

"I'm fine. I go to Barnard for journalism. My dormitory is just 15 minutes from here on foot. I love coming here. They have the best chicken soup." She smiles. "I just finished my lunch and was going to head back."

"No, don't." She looks confused, so I use the only excuse that's in my head. "Go on a walk with me, won't you? I'm lonely as hell and've missed ya a lot."

Now she seems worried, but that just fades to a slight smile when she agrees, pays for her soup, and we walk down the street together, catching up with each other. We're talking a lot and it seems like old times again. Sooner or later, we end up walking through Central Park. There's a lot of great snow on the ground. It really came down hard a couple of days ago and now there are kids all over the place with their boots and scarves and gloves. Snow angels and all of that. All in the park. We end up walking by some chess tables and I remember something.

"Do you remember," I ask her," about the kings?"

She seems confused, so I continue. "We played checkers in Maine when we were younger." She still doesn't remember. I'm pretty appalled. I mean, come on, how couldn't she remember something like that? We're silent for a few minutes and then she finally remembers.

"Oh my gosh. I do remember! I did that thing with the kings that I got."

I nod, happy that she finally remembers. "Why did you always do that?"

She thinks for a moment, trying to rack her brain for the answer. "I think that it looks nice, you know, seeing them all in a line. It's not only the aesthetics that I like about it, though. I like what it reminds me of. It's the power that I have. I'm holding it in the back row, my power, waiting to unleash it." She seems satisfied with her answer and looks at me, sort of… embarrassed?

"Sorry for that. It's just a thing that I used to do that was silly and childish."

"No, I think that it's swell. I always liked the way that you did that. I really did."

She beams at me and then seems to find interest in something behind me. I spin around and find a huddle of snowmen with their arms all wooden and bent in a field close by. Some with scarves, others only with eyes.

I start walking towards them, mesmerized by the perfect imperfections of the snowmen. I'm pretty close now, and Jane starts to follow, looking worried. I raise my arm and reach out with it at the nearest one to me.

"Holden, don't!" She shouts. I turn around and see that she's cautiously stepping in the snow. Her boots only just peak out from the snow on the ground. Her legs must be cold; she's only wearing these stockings under this skirt.

I turn to her. "What's wrong?"

"You're going to knock 'em over! Don't, okay? Those people must have worked hard on them!"

I laugh and grab some snow in my hand. The water soaks the grey wool but I don't care. I make a ball out of it and start to roll it in more snow, and eventually it's so big that Jane, now laughing, comes over to help me roll it to a new area of the field. The tracks that we've left criss-cross over the entire field. The snowball is pretty large by now and her tights are soaked right above her boots. She bends down and grabs a fistful of snow and shapes it into a ball. She starts to roll it around, criss-crossing the paths that we made earlier, and when she tries to pick it up and bring it over to the base, she drops it and it breaks. She starts to giggle and then full on laugh. I'm laughing as I come over to her and form the beginnings of the second attempt at the midsection of our snowman. I roll it a bit and then she comes over to help and soon enough, we're back at the base. She helps me lift the middle up and onto the top of the other snowball. Now, she picks up another snowball and rolls it a bit. She makes it much smaller than the others, but it's there and it's perfect. She calls me over to help pick it up and together we place it on the snowman.

We gorge out the face and find arms for him. She looks at him as if there's something missing and then walks over to me and grabs my hat off of my head. She places it on top of the snowman and he looks complete. Neither of us says a word for a while and the silence is full of promise. "Tell ya what," I say. "How about I make you my apprentice. I'll teach you how to make snowmen of this quality and, soon enough, you'll be the best snowman maker on the West side." She smiles and does that magical thing that she used to do all that time ago. Her hand slips behind my neck and I feel really, truly happy for the first time in a long while.


End file.
